Nothing Else Matters But You
by ItalianPrincess92
Summary: A short fic inspired by Episode 10. Victuuri is engaged. This show is a gift.


**Just a short fic inspired by Episode 10. This show is a gift that we do not deserve.**

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 _"This is an engagement ring. We'll get married once he wins a gold medal."_

Yuuri plays those words over and over in his mind with each step he takes toward the ice. He uses them as motivation; as inspiration. Victor is right behind him, offering his silent support with his hand placed on the small of Yuuri's back.

The band around his finger sparkles, catching the fluorescent lights of the arena. It acts as a calming force, giving him a much-needed distraction from the mounting pressure on his shoulders.

It's the final night of the Grand Prix, and as the current scores stand, Yuuri is in second place. He needs to deliver a flawless performance to wind up on top.

As he takes his position in the middle of the rink, Yuuri tunes out the crowd and the persistent clicking of camera shutters. It's just him and his blades and the glossy surface beneath him.

Bowing his head, Yuuri closes his eyes and waits for the music to begin.

* * *

Yuuri leaves everything he has on the ice. Every turn, every jump, every spin - it's a love letter to skating itself. With every move, Yuuri tries to showcase just how far he's come since his disastrous season from the previous year. All of the hard work of the past eight months has culminated to this point, and Yuuri wants to make everyone proud, especially Victor.

However, he's not perfect. There are a couple spots during his routine where he wobbles, and the quad flip he's banked on turns into a triple. But he stays focused, not allowing the slight missteps to throw him off balance.

He finishes with a dramatic flourish of his arms, bringing the audience to their feet. Flowers and plush toys shower the ice in a display of adoration, and Yuuri waves to the energized spectators, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The thunderous applause continues as Yuuri skates over to the Kiss and Cry; to Victor. There is an ecstatic grin splitting across his face. As soon as he's close enough, Victor snatches him up into a bone-crushing hug, peppering his cheeks with kisses and murmuring praises into his ear.

Now all they can do is wait.

* * *

At the end of the evening, after the numbers have been tallied, Phichit edges Yuuri out for silver. So he ends his Grand Prix journey on the podium with a bronze medal hanging from his neck. In a somewhat surprising twist, first place belongs to Otabek. Though, after seeing both of his stunning programs, Yuuri knows that he deserves it.

Overall, Yuuri is happy with the outcome, yet there is still a nagging feeling of disappointment and anxiety that he just can't shake.

Once the medal ceremony is over, reporters converge on the trio, bombarding them with questions about their thoughts on the competition as well as future plans.

Yuuri is grateful to Victor who stands besides him, chiming in every so often, thanking everyone for their kind words and unending encouragement.

Victor then steers Yuuri away from the crush of media, prompting them to move on to interview Yurio, Chris, and JJ to get their perspective on the results.

Finding some privacy in a secluded corner, Victor takes Yuuri's hand and laces their fingers together.

"I guess our next big task is planning our wedding, hm?" There's a playfulness in his tone.

Yuuri blinks, unable to mask his surprise.

"Wedding? But... I didn't win gold," Yuuri says, poking at the bronze disc that is resting on his sternum. It feels heavier than normal.

Victor looks at him for a moment, puzzled. But then the realization of what Yuuri is referencing dawns on him, and his mouth quirks into an amused smile. He laughs, but it's not mocking or harsh. It's soft and sweet and his blue eyes are warm with affection.

"Yuuri," he whispers, looping an arm around the younger man's slim waist. "Did you really think I was serious? I don't care about that. I'm marrying _you_ , not a medal."

Pulling him closer, Victor cradles Yuuri's face with the other hand. Their noses are centimeters apart, gazes locked on the other. "Nothing else matters but you, _moya lyubov,_ " he says, his smile widening. Victor then leans in to kiss him, and Yuuri giggles against his mouth, the worry from earlier dissipating with the chaste gesture.

They hear an excited squeal, and when they turn, the two are blinded by the flash of Phichit's cell phone camera.

Before Yuuri can stop him, Phichit runs off with a triumphant cackle, showing the photo to anyone who will look.

Victor chuckles and grasps Yuuri's hand once more. "How long before that ends up online?"

"I'm sure it's getting thousands of likes and comments as we speak," Yuuri replies, trying to imagine the outlandish caption that Phichit has no doubt added to the post.

Victor hums in approval. "Good. I want everyone to see. I want them to know how much I love you and how excited I am that you're going to be my husband."

Yuuri blushes. A year ago, he would have been mortified if such an intimate moment wound up on the internet. But now, he feels nothing short of elated. They belong to each other, and Yuuri wants the whole world to know.

Giving Victor a peck on the lips, Yuuri grins. "Me too."

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